The Fourth War
by Sir G
Summary: After the inaugaration of Arthas as the Lich King a short period of peace flourished in the world of Azeroth. Yet a cataclysm shall send the world into a war of unprecedented scale. But who will be victorious. Warcraft lore and Dota heroes.
1. Premonition

**The Fourth War**

**Preparation**

**Chapter 1**

**Premonition**

"The scale of the catastrophe was unbelievable and the result was incomprehensible….

I should have left him finish what he was scheming or never allow him to set out in the beginning….

Brother you are a plague to your own kind and now I have to bear the guilt….." – Journal entries of a night elf arch druid.

In the dark plains of the corrupted Lordaeron he smiled at the faint moon. If he was someone else, you would have thought he was in a good mood. But considering he was one of the few entities that all races loathed and despised, it was hard for him to actually be in a good mood. Although the constant hatred suited him a lot more than a smile on his skeletal face, which he couldn't stop as the suffering and death in the air gave him a sort of warmth inside, even though his body was mostly ice. But these 'good moods' never seemed to last long as some impertinent corpse would disturb his thoughts,

"Kel…."

and call him by his short name…

"What fool dares to interrupt my peace!" he turned around with blue bolts lighting up in his eyes and hands, "And call me..."

The anger faded together with the menacing blue energies and was replaced by shock and cold sweat, for as he turned around there was no one there.

"Kel…."

There was only one being in the whole of the Universe and Nether that called him by his partial name, and there was only one being in the Universe and Nether that had a direct telepathical link to him,

"Master?" he tried not to think of what caused the Lich King to call him so suddenly, but he hoped dearly for his unlife that he won't punish the Archlich for his insolence.

"Kel….I need to talk to you."

Kel'Thuzad regained his cool, his master was in a good mood as well, but the last time he was contacted in the same way was to bring news of severe importance. It has been some two months since the betrayal and the beginning of Prince… no King Arthas' crusade. A month after that Kel received a similar telepathic message together with a small gift from King Arthas in the form of a pet wyrm, named Sapphiron, who delivered a burned Sunstrider Banner and a chip from Illidan's horn directly to Naxxramas – a complete victory for the Scourge. From that point in time Scourge activities in Lordaeron increased tenfold. The blasted dark elf's forsaken forces were pushed back all the way to the Tristfal Glades. Scholomance was refurbished, school attendance increased by 300 and research continued in full stride. The Scourge took back half of the ruins of Stratholme, giving about another thousand corpses for the undead cause, whilst the 'Scarlets' were pushed back into the deep corners of the plagued lands (Kel couldn't resist but smirk at the last thought; he recently found out what kind of 'lord' the Scarlets actually have). Considering Kel'Thuzad was directly responsible for all these developments, he expected a reward from his new Master, yet the urgency of the King's call bothered Kel greatly.

"Yes Master, what news from the Nether."

Arthas' pause made the Archlich's premonition all the more worrying.

"I have seen a great disturbance in the Nether. I have decided to proceed with the ritual."

Now he understood. The New King will proceed with the ritual of binding himself to the Icecrown by encrusting himself in the Frozen Throne. Although making himself completely immobile, his mental power will increase immeasurably. His control over the Scourge will increase dramatically, yet there was a problem.

Kel'Thuzad dwelled deep into his memories, he remembered Arthas as the one who was able to defeat all his enemies, three times murdering the ones who gave him support, the mercenaries of Northrend, the people of Lordaeron and the Undead of Undercity, and of course he is the only person ever able to slay and resurrect Kel'Thuzad himself. He was the greatest champion of the Scourge and was not even initiated into the Cult of the Damned. Ner'Zhul did find an intriguing successor. But if the Scourge will lose the champion chosen by Frostmourne will it be able to withstand the enemies the Lich King sees in the future.

A gale rushed through the citadel. The crash of bottles, test tubes and corpses echoed throughout. The defenders of Stratholme cowered as a great shadow passed over them. The blue skeleton dived into the main chamber and gracefully landed on its pedestal. Kel'Thuzad still mused whether using a frost wyrm as a messenger bird was logical but decided not to question the King's choice. Besides he was slowly starting to enjoy the company of such pets rather than walking corpses and demented humans. Yet Sapphiron's arrival was too well timed…

His eyes froze. Completely struck the archlich continued to glare at Sapphiron's mouth. One of the teeth was glimmering too much for a tooth of a decaying dragon. In fact it wasn't a tooth at all. It was a sword.

"I suppose Sapphiron has just arrived," the Lich King's voice awoke Kel'Thuzad. "I believe you understand what this means Kel."

If Arthas can't be the Lich King's champion any more than a new champion must be found, it all made sense. But what kind of battle will the Scourge be facing if the King has gone to such measures.

"You are preparing for war Kel'Thuzad. You have two weeks to assemble the mightiest force in the history of this world. I do not care about their previous affiliation…use any means…I await you at the Nexus…"

War. Another war. In the first the night elves and dragons were able to push back the Burning Legion but with cataclysmic results – the Sundering and the splitting of Kalimdor. In the second the humans were able to dismantle the orcish horde before the Legion was able to act, the result the decimation of the orcs of Draenor and the imprisonment of Ner'Zhul, followed by his inauguration as Lich King. In the third the united alliance of orc, humans and elves was somehow able to defeat the Legion and fight back the Scourge. Thus Ner'Zhul failed twice and had to be replaced, in fact empowered by another. And that turned out to be Arthas. Now it is time to prepare for the Fourth War. And it was his duty to form the Unholy Alliance of the Scourge. Kel'Thuzad turned around to look at his experiments and was filled by a feeling of such twisted joy that he couldn't resist laughing. Meanwhile his creations were rising to meet his master, acidic spit dropping from the enchanted teeth, stitched flesh lumbering concentrated in dark magic and magical seals unbinding the magical statue.

"Greed, Gluttony, Lust. It is time to see if you can gain true names, my creations. The master has ordered us to find a new champion and so we shall," Kel'Thuzad chuckled, "We shall let the blade choose its wielder itself, but we will have to gather the competitors. Greed, Avarice start preparing the trial," the lumbering giant and the menacing ghoul ran out, "Lust seek out those you lust. I feel a few powerful entities have forgotten to enrol into the Cult," and with that the living statue spread its wings and dived into the diseased skies. "As for me it's time to arrange a gathering of the undead elite to find out who is worthy."

* * *

She always believed in heroes. Believed how chosen people can protect you at a time of need. Believed how their promises were more precious than gold. And he turned out to be a true hero. Even before his elevation to great authority, where he stood now above everyone else, she was his greatest follower. She remembered the long hours studying dark books, hiding from the Dalaran guards and then proudly striding forth with the armies of undead. She still remembered the first time they met, she told him his fortune, without realising he came to her in order to escape the night watch, as he was prowling to the first Cult meetings in Dalaran. Even at that point he noticed her, noticed her gift and remembered her ever since. She never knew if it was love that she developed over this time or a truly extreme loyalty towards her master and tutor, but still she protected him with her body from the Dwarven bullets, when Arthas finally found them. She didn't hear him shout her name at that moment or maybe she couldn't, her death was very quick. Yet the fact remains unchanged, after long months he came back, in his resurrected form, and gave her a new life, just as he promised in the very beginning, "The Cult, no, I will promise you unending life if you follow me and become my pupil." From being the poor 'Krobelus the Oracle', who told people their future for mere coins, she became Krobelus the Death Prophet, who decided the future of the people, the most powerful Prophet of all Undead. And of course she remained Kel'Thuzad's personal advisor.

"Krobelus my dear," her master's voice always gave her spectral body the feeling of warmth, "I require you to summon all the prominent death knights to the arena. The King wished to elect a champion," Krobelus never questioned her master's words, nor did she ever ask for more information than he decided to give, yet this on its own was a troubling matter. She despised Arthas that was true, but she knew him as the slayer and resurrector of her master, both acts requiring skill and warrior qualities. Such a move could only mean one course of action – conflict. She peered into the Nether with her soul. A catastrophe. An epic battle. And a hazed result…Why could she not see?! Why could she not see the glorious victory of the unstoppable Scourge? Nor the opposite? A draw? But that is impossible in a war. Another contestant? Possible but unlikely. Her master broke her train of thought.

"Also Krobelus, I am interested how my old comrades and other prominent members of Dalaran are faring. We may require their aid."

"Yes, master."

"Very well, pupil."

A major difference with her previous human self and new banshee self was not just the increased prophetic skill, but also a large increase in dark magic and spiritology skill. Her conversations with fading spirits have opened a new window in her world and gave her much knowledge of other worlds and dimensions. Finding individuals of such magical power should not take long at all. And in fact one was rapidly making his way towards Naxxramas.

* * *

That's it for the first chapter, but they will get longer as the story progresses. Thanks to Sangheneili for proof reading and being my main advisor. Reviews criticism and advice very welcome. And since this will be based mainly on Dota heroes write to say which is your favourite, so I can promote them in importance. See you soon ;) 


	2. Tranquility

**The Fourth War**

**Preparation**

**Chapter 2**

**Tranquillity**

"Poison led me down a path of pure destruction, after 20 years devoted to its research something else caught my eye…

It was easier than I expected to open a dimensional portal, an artefact of extreme power – the soul of a dragon…

My brother was curious enough to bind to it – a creature of the void; chrono distortion…

Noticed other portals forming – Andorhall, Redridge…

An eredar child found close to a portal in Silverpine, taken in by wolves? Intriguing…

Research into combining my two passions – a poison void…" – Research notes labelled Professor L. D.

* * *

Thousands of years ago, the demi-god gazed at the moon. Earth –defiled and broken. The elves – shattered and succumbed by foreign magics. The dragonflight – weakened and exhausted. Time has passed but the Sundering does not heal. Sargeras may have lost the battle, but he has landed a crushing victory in the war. He knew that the magic shall draw the Dark Titan's demons back to Kalimdor, or what's left of it. It was only a matter of time. He continued to watch the full moon, "Oh Mother, grant me your grace and wisdom." He was a demi-god. He was one with nature and the earth. Yet he lacked the wisdom and power of a true god. As shown by the fact he, Cenarius, was still walking the earth, rather than rule from the sky. He walked on through the wood concentrated with fel magic – Felwood the elves called it now. These fel magics consumed the force of nature and corrupted it. The trees around him were threatening him, abandoned by ancestral spirits, they were just pieces of cursed wood. Was there none of Kalimdor left untainted? He noticed a cave. Whether it was divine guidance or a long forgotten sense of curiosity but he stepped inside. Passing by the packs of bears that looked at Cenarius peacefully – untainted! – the demi-god stepped into a lush retreat. The trees felt clean and in the middle of the valley a moonbeam shone on the ground. Cenrarius discovered the moonbeam was lighting up an elven glaive with a child sleeping right on it.

"Do not make another move entity."

Cenarius looked behind him to discover a night elf sitting hidden in the shadows. He could sense that the elf was of no threat and not contaminated by magic. Also Cenarius could see the boy, for he was a mere 50 years of age, was blind from birth. Only one night elf was ever recorded to have been born blind – Illidan the Betrayer. He was now a magic thirsty lunatic hiding from the rest of the world. Yet although this boy was blind he was untainted and too young to be Illidan himself…

"You are an entity of great power, yet I care not, I shall protect this child till my grave!" the blind elf was rising in a battle stance.

"Calm yourself, young elf. I am Cenarius, Keeper of Nature itself. I come in peace. And I have questions for you, elf."

The elf eased his battle intent, "A god? No, a demi-god. Very well, I beg your forgiveness great Keeper of the Forest. This elf's eyes do not allow me to see the whole truth, for they only see magic."

Cenarius was intrigued, "You're telling me elf that you recognised my power by seeing the magic inside of me?"

"Don't be so arrogant Keeper. I may be young but I have heard rumours. You detest the magic of the Highborne and support the druids, even through war. Yet what you fail to see is that both sides of this bloody war use magic. Just the Highborne tap into the arcane magics of the Well of Eternity…used to. While the druids utilise the force of nature – the magic of nature. Magic is something that flows through all things with blood, even some of those without. Yet it's amount and potency is completely variable," the elf switched his blindfolded gaze to the child. "She was a beacon of hope for me, when I was suffering from lethal withdrawal, the explosion of the Well caught me in full blast, I could see her vast magic power from miles away, she was my light at the end of my tunnel. On the third day after the Sundering I finally reached her and fell dead. Yet she resurrected me and cured me. I now guard this divine child, for I believe she is no other than the daughter of Elune herself."

The divine entity experienced a new feeling for the first time. The elf had information superiority. To an extent that he was able to surprise the demi-god. Never before has any mortal been able to tell Cenarius something he did not expect so much. This child, his sister? Yet he knew the blind elf was telling the truth. He felt a connection. Whilst he was Elune's son tied to nature, she was Elune's daughter tied to the moon itself. He shall be the Keeper and she shall be the Warrior Queen.

"Luna…"

Yes, a child of the moon, a warrior of the moon, the semi divine embodiment of Elune's wrath.

"Moonfang…"

Cenarius turned around to the tranquil grove. He let out a roar. All animals around approached him slowly. Nature itself was listening.

"Hear me now Kalimdor. This paradise shall be from now on Elune's recluse – a grove of peace, tranquillity and union – I hereby proclaim it Moonglade."

He turned around and faced the clans of bears that gathered.

"You the humble bears of Kalimdor! I proclaim you the new Defenders of Moonglade," a soft green glow started to envelop the bears. "You shall be the fiercest and most powerful animals of Kalimdor," the bears began to enlarge, their features changed – their faces became more human, they're paws grew, some were even able to stand on their hind legs. "You are now Ursas and you must select a Guardian of Moonglade every generation!"

The Ursas bowed humbly and walked back into the cave. The stag god turned towards the blind elf holding the baby.

"As for you," he turned around to the cave. "Malfurion you heard everything right."

"Pardon my insolence oh Keeper, but I was drawn by the sign of Elune. I have heard your instructions and thus I and my most trusted druids shall cleanse the land around and protect Moonglade at all costs. I shall also personally look after both Lady Moonfang and…"

Both the demi-god and the archdruid looked at the blind elf.

"That is true Malfurion. Boy what is your name?"

The elf remained motionless, "I don't… have one…"

The demi-god surveyed the ragged elf. His eyes closed, his dirty garments torn and bloodstained, his hair seemed grey yet they had silver parts. An elf that could only see magic…

"So be it, from this day on you shall be known as Magina. Malfurion take care of them both."

As the archdruid approached the elf, he started to sway back clutching the child.

"I shall not leave her side! You cannot take her away from me! I will not…gi…"

The elf slowly dropped to the ground. Barely alive he was too exhausted, yet even unconscious he still held the child with an iron grip. The archdruid slowly walked away carrying Magina and Luna. The demi-god looked up at the moon. He smiled.

* * *

Lunge, dodge. Sweep, jump. Thrust, spin. Slash, trip. Dazed, finish. Another fighter attempted to vanquish her in armed combat, another one failed. It is not often the Warden accepted fights, but she had to prove herself from time to time to the other elves and Sentinels, proving that their skill is still a couple of thousand years away from hers. And every fight was exactly the same, the only time Mortred attacked was to finish the fight. She did not use anything special but her warden glaive, some say a gift from Maiev herself. Yet no matter who you were, no matter what fighting style you used, archer or druid, she took you out within minute. Just as all the night elves were surprised and even horrified by Maiev's sense of justice, so were they of Mortred's sense of combat and assassination. The Sentinel's themselves were created to protect, however the newly elected Warden has seen to be much more centred on offence rather than defence. In fact she succeeded Maiev only because she was her favourite and unfortunately she was the best of the Night Elves. As the competitor slowly got up, Mortred wiped the blood from her weapon, she always made a wound just to prove her point and superiority. Shadelzare ran up to her.

"A great fight, Mortred, he didn't stand a chance! I wish I was as good as you!"

"That's impossible. You shall never surpass me in this life, no matter how much you try. If we fight, the battle will result in your death."

"That's not what I meant…but ok sure. Good fight anyways…"

Shandelzare ran off quickly. Before she used to cry, but now she saw the coldness as a good part of her hero. No matter what others say, that she's a mindless killing machine, she knew Mortred has never killed anyone. She also knew something no one else knew. Maiev didn't just like Mortred, she was like a mother to her. Even when she went off to hunt down Illidan, she still left the Butterfly with Mortred. She also knew that the wrath of the avatar, the secret Sentinel technique that made Maiev Warden for thousands of years, was one of Mortred's techniques as well. The two Wardens remain the only two Night Elves to be able to summon their avatar. But in any case Shandelzare was happy. Maybe, she herself saw Mortred as her own mother.

As the inferior Sentinel walked off Mortred followed her with her stare. She herself was useless. Yet somehow she possessed the dagger. If she was to become invincible she needed that dagger. Although she herself was able to teleport, she was not able to Blink. No matter how much Maiev tried she could not teach her how to use it properly. The reason was Mortred was too good. According to her excelling strength and energy, yet poor mental power, she could not control her teleportation. It was completely sporadic in all three dimensions. Once trying to blink over a mile wide river, Mortred ended up in an eagle nest at the top of a tree two kilometres in the opposite direction. But she adapted to kill without blink, by altering her shadowmeld. She still does not know how Maiev did it, but the effect gained her many fierce names, 'The Invisible', 'Death from the Mist', and her favourite 'The Phantom Assassin'. But soon the time will come when she claims the dagger, and then nothing, nothing will stand in face of her mortal blows.

Overall the night elves were recovering, having exiled the Highborne from Kalimdor peace and tranquillity seems to have finally been established. The elves' normal lives have been re-established, free of magic (arcane that is). The archdruid saw the world peaceful enough to go back to slumber with his fellow druids and return to the Emerald Dream. The new leader was established to be High Priestess Tyrande. Under her a major female society was formed, however there were still prominent males.

In the trees. Hit centre. Floating in the swamp. Hit centre. Flown by an owl. Hit centre. Applause. The elf took off his bow.

"By Elune he hit them all!" "He's amazing!" "How did he get that last one!" "Hurrah for Linkz the greatest archer in the whole of Kalimdor!"

Even the female elves weren't offended as the blue eyed archer stepped of the tree stump to receive the applauding crowds, "Well actually I'm just the fastest," he said in a bow. "She's the best," he pointed towards a female archer getting unto the stump.

"Link put it behind that tree," the elf said as she put on a blindfold.

"You're not gonna do it twice, darling. Last time was a fluke, Trazelle."

She smirked as she tightened her bow, "Watch me Linksy."

Trazelle aimed directly at the tree. You could hear the strain in the string as she pulled it even further. And then she let go. The arrow blasted off, breaking the string as it set off. Piercing the wood completely, it sent splinters everywhere. Exiting the other side of the tree it darted through the middle of the target, ripping it in half.

Screaming applause followed. The initiate archers were all rushing to the true experts, "I think that was a nice double act honey."

"Ye, they sure liked your performance Linksy."

"Hehe, I'm quite sure it's your show that got us being carried as heroes, Trazelle."

She smiled at the young elf, "Your right. It is a double act." Then they sealed the performance with a kiss.

* * *

The pine smelt blood. Chaos. Conflict. Death… They must not be allowed to flourish. In heavy stride the ground started to shake. Two bears were being assaulted by a pack of wolves. One was critically injured. Death… Cannot allow. As the bloodlust beasts were ready to pounce on the raging animal nature rebuked. Weed trapped the wolves' fur and roots entangled their legs. The earth started to shake dramatically. The defending bear who was astounded by this miracle immediately went back to aggression as he felt the arrival of a greater force. Behind him the bear's bleeding companion was being wrapped in soft roots and healing herbs. Puzzled by this the bear did not notice that one the many surrounding trees was in fact moving, to an extent that it raised its arms and picked up the injured animals, escaping back into the thick of the forest. Slowly the natural chains slipped off the berserk animals, who by now were fast asleep.

The oak was pointing towards the thicket. Leshrac knew this was a sign. The Watcher had awakened and as always this had to be for a reason. As Romulos had been appointed Keeper of Moonglade, Leshrac was appointed Keeper of Ashenvale, and right now his Watcher has sensed trouble. Arriving at the Thicket in full stride Leshrac saw Rooftrellen bent over two bears.

"I see. We must find out the source of the animals' rage," then the Keeper noticed something crucial. "Thank you friend. You may have done a lot more than you expected," as green wisps flew from Leshrac's finger they enveloped both bears. When they disappeared the bear who was less injured was standing and licking the other, while the other one turned out to be an elf druid with critical bruises.

Whilst in the main temple priestess Mirana fell unconscious, her mind clouded with a looming nightmare of chaos.

* * *

Well there's another chapter. More action coming up next chapter, so look forward. Read, reivew and see you soon!;) 


	3. Encounter

**The Fourth War**

**Preparation**

**Chapter 3**

**Encounter**

"We have fought…"

"…for a very long time."

"Our spells…"

"…have been frozen."

"The only thing left…"

"…are our minds."

"I do believe…"

"…our hatred is mutual."

"But beware…"

"…you old fool."

"I and my servants shall end you when I escape!"

"I and my servants shall end you when I escape!" – discussion in a separate dimension

* * *

The forest was a cacophony of emotions. Its mystical aura was alluring, with the unknown lights and strange trees. It was filled with concentrated threat, as the owner of the forest's name loomed about as a phantom menace. But at the same time Terrokar Forest was a beacon of hope, housing one of the final havens in the whole of Outland – Shattrath City. It was a place of tranquil security, where even mortal enemies – the Scryer blood elves and the Aldor draenei – could live in peace, under the watchful eye of the Naaru. This place of hope and security had gathered many various people. Attracted by either the way of the Naaru or the hate of the Legion or simply by shelter they came from the furthest points of Outland. She came because she dreamt of peace. The rumours of a place where the arrakoa lived in peace with the sporelings and blood elves were neighbours to draenei seemed laughable to her at first. But when she finally entered Shattrath she couldn't believe the truth. She herself was a victim of the legion and the Illidari. Chased by the demons from her home to the fortress of Tempest Keep, she then had to flee that same fortress when Kael's followers came. Still a mere child, she could remember her mother throwing her into Vellen's arms as the Exodar left and a firebolt struck her dear parent. For long she trained, fuelled by anger and revenge, yet Vellen was able to show her the way of the Naaru. Travelling and preaching the way of divine light she finally reached the Dark Portal and then Shattrath. Her fights with the fel orcs have incited a dear hate of those evil demons and as well the colour red. In this way she had some respect for the Scryers who, unlike Kael's elves, chose black as their colour. However as she became a guardian and vidicator of the Shatar, she could never learn to like the orcs. Having spent many long days in Lower City she got along with all the refugees, especially the reformed Arrakoa, she saw how the light changed them for the better. Yet the Naaru have preached compassion and thus she tried to help all.

Once on patrol of the surroundings of Shattrath she heard a scream. Quickly looking around she saw no other guards. Panic appeared. No! She is meant to be prepared for this! Calming her mind and strengthening her spirit she took hold of her trusty mace and ran towards the scream. Her blood pumped as she saw the cause of the scream. A nether drake and a fel orc knight were crouched over a figure.

"Stop fel demons! Unhand you victim!" she started to charge feeling the holy light fill her body. She threw her shield at the nefarious drake. The beast flew off, the missile scrapping his wing. However the knight was not planning on escape. FLASH! Suddenly she found herself outnumbered as she now faced three foes not one. The three knights started charging. Her will wavered.

The recent memories came back to haunt her as she again saw the red monsters tear apart her beloved, herself powerless to intervene, absent of energy, absent of light. She remembered as she lay there, the pack of fel orcs charging at her defenceless self. She closed her eyes and was ready to accept her failure, unable to reach her target…Shattrath…And only when instead of a weapon landing on her, a corpse did, she realised she was alive. Slowly she got up and saw how effortlessly a red clad elf was silently dispatching her assaulters. His glaives pierced their throats and slit their stomachs. And those that were uninjured were manically running around, unable to utter a sound, choking on their own spit. She did not know what to feel. She hated him! Why did he save her life but left her dearest to die. He was amazed by the Naaru and was the most compassionate person she ever knew. They said they will reach and defend Shattrath together, but now he left her. Yet she knew she had to continue and finish his wish, thus she did feel she owed that elf. He silently walked off without even giving her a glance. Now she was back. The knights were still charging. Yet she cannot fall here. She must continue his wish and she cannot be outmatched by that elf. Rushing in she unleashed divine fury on the first, purged the second with a hammer of justice and finished the third with a critical head blow with her mace. The enemies were defeated and once again she thanked the light for the support and power it granted. A violent cough awoke her from her prayer. She rushed towards the victim and took his hand to check his pulse. Her heart froze. The hand was green! No wait, she tried to calm herself, he is untainted, he is an ordinary orc, he may even be a follower of Vellen's order, I must not judge the innocent! Taking a deep breath she examined the wounded. The hand she held responded, touching hers, "(cough) What…soft skin (cough)."

"Wait! Stay with me! Ill attempt to heal you right away!" but first she had to find out what the injury was.

" (cough) Tell me…child. What is your… name?"

"Oh, it's," she paused contemplating the fact she was about to tell an orc her name, "Liu'see."

"Lucy? What a beautiful name," he uttered as he slowly got up. Yet she was still bent over, over nothing, clasping a hand, that was no longer there.

Her mouth could barely move, "Who…re yo…?" the orc slowly walked behind her motionless self.

He cackled, "My name is of no need for you to know. But for you," he peered at her with burning eyes, "I am your DOOM!" He slammed his palm on her forehead leaving a burning insignia.

Pain. Burning. PAIN. The magic that kept her immobile was overpowered by the searing fire devouring her. Twisting and turning. Arching, twitching. Green lines started spreading from the mark. Lucy felt her body being corrupted by demon magics. The light evaporated from her body. The lines covered her entire body and converged around her genitals. Her skin was burning, the pain tortured her entire body, her mind was in a forced state of consciousness. Yet she felt it. A movement inside of her. Horror blocked her mind. The movement spread from her womb to her entire body. She was losing control of her body. Her mind was being taken over. She was no longer herself. It was over…

The silence was broken. Sitting at the highest point of the cursed forest, his silent meditation was ended. He knew it was not normal. When was the last time you saw a netherdrake fly over Terrokar Forest? Especially one without a rider. Outland was stirring up. And the worst part was he didn't know who was doing the stirring. He infiltrated the Illidari and found nothing: Kael is busy recruiting forces, taking care of problems in Netherstorm and trying to decipher the Cipher; Vashj is clearing out Zangarmarsh and dealing with the pesky druids; while Illidan himself was fighting too many people at the same time, trying to recruit half of those he fought, and he also had hidden problems as well. The legion was occupied with dealing with the reopening of the portal – the renewed activity of the new alliance and horde effort was hampering its plans greatly. So then who is it? Nortrom was sure he was missing a crucial link. But in any case he had to interrogate someone who was part of the ploy. And it seemed he found one. Briskly arriving at the scene he found an orc warlock and a draenei paladin. The warlock was familiar, but the elf was distracted briskly. Quickly putting his finger to his mouth, Nortrom turned around to face an orc knight.

"Your steps were not quiet enough," Nortrom split the orc in half with one glaive.

"You fool the first one's always the decoy!!" another knight was slashing at him from behind. With a quick dodge Nortrom threw another glaive at the orc's steed, forcing the rider to parry the projectile.

"You bastard you dare strike down my…" the orc lost his voice as his glowing blade turned plain.

"Hmm…You are able to distort space and teleport yourself with your steed instantly through short distances. An ability that requires little mana, yet you cannot use it too often as you have a chance of permanently disrupting yourself in space. I believe I have heard about you. I think it was an accident including you, a spectral knight and a spontaneous rip in the void. Also together with you ability to manipulate space, you can also manipulate time as you were about to stop me in time by using some form of magic from your sword. Not to mention you can make semi-real copies of yourself by opening portals in time. Last but not least you can slow down time and attempt to pinpoint a weak point thus dealing much greater damage with one blow. But because you received you abilities by chance, you still don't have complete control over them, therefore they are sporadic. Intriguing."

The orc finally regained his voice, "Nice work mister wise guy, but I wasn't trying to kill you. My objective is just to slow you down."

"What a coincidence, so is mine," with that he took out a glaive, infused it with mana and threw it into the air. The mana discharged in a blue explosion. The orc was puzzled, but saw a netherdrake take off with an orc warlock and a draenei.

"Was that a sorry attempt to hit my master?! You're pathetic, elf boy!!" in response to which Nortrom just pointed into the sky. Following his finger the fel orc saw nothing but a few tiny dots. Few seconds later, in awe, he saw a battalion of Scryer dragonhawk riders chase after his master. Taking his opportunity Nortrom took out a small glaive, cast a quick spell and launched it at the orc. The sharp metal scratched the surface of the orc's armour and fell on the ground lifeless.

"HA! What a weakling! Next time we properly fight I'll slay you in one minute, or my name isn't NESSAJ THE CHAOS KNIGHT!!!" with that the orc unleashed a portal and disappeared together with his steed. Slowly walking up to the place where the enemy was Nortrom picked up the small glaive and started spinning it. He laughed, then released the glaive. Still spinning the glaive started to hover and then started accelerating in an irregular direction with Nortrom following the beacon the glaive became.

* * *

The trial was about to start. A large arena was set up in the middle of the black citadel. An elevation in the middle was taken by Sapphiron, above whom hanged a sword. On the tier below there was a smaller arena. Below that was a tier of cannons. And finally on the bottom where the contenders, facing a horde of opponents.

"Comrades!" the Arch Lich hovered above the contraption. "I have gathered you here to find the one the Lich King needs – his Champion! I have chosen the finest and best, but only one of you shall receive the title and the prize. Your target – the sword of Damocles!" Kel-Thuzad pointed towards the hanging sword, "The one who surpasses my handpicked undead fighters, the finest undead cannons, the Lich King's personal wyrm and each other shall claim the prize. There are no rules! The first one to claim the sword, is the first one to keep it! COMMENCE!"

Immediately one contender spread his wings and took off directly for the sword. Guts and blood rained as a hook pierced the unfortunate and sent him directly into the abomination's mouth. Multiple death knights charged the hordes. One, Commander Mograine, charged through turning all he passed to dust. Another, less powerful, had his steed quickly disassembled by a rather large ghoul, himself following suit. A demon filled with darkness entered the arena spurting meteors of death all over the arena, turning to cinder both undead monsters and other contenders. Few were able to slowly make their way to the cannons. Having arrived there Commander Mograine was puzzled to find all cannons destroyed. Rushing forward on his trusty steed he arrived at the small arena. Another death knight was already there, facing the last obstacle.

"My, I didn't not expect another knight to get here faster than me, tell me your…"

"Commander Mograine," the pale death knight interrupted the ex-crusader's words. "You already possess one of the mightiest swords in the world," he pointed at the shining disc and sword that was the Ashbringer, "why do you seek this sword of Damocles?"

" (sigh) I gave you too much credit didn't I. Only a recruit would not know what this is all about. That isn't the sword of Damocles," he pointed at the sword hanging over absent space, "That is Frosmourne!" turning around to face the sword he noticed something missing. A breath of winter's chill showered them both, as Sapphiron left his roost and started circling the two competitors.

"Speaking of frost that was quite cold."

"En guard maggot!" Mograine got off his steed and rushed the opponent over the ice.

"Very well!" the rival answered jumping off his horse, unsheathing a magic infused blade. A spark flew off. The sharp point turned blinding white. In one sweeping motion of the sword the mysterious knight created a white circle around him.

"Huh! Lights won't stop me!!!" Mograine exploded in a jumping slash. FLASH! The glowing sword made contact with the circle. Displaced by the Ashbringer's force the circle started spinning. In fact now there was more than one.

"What is this foul trickery!" Mograine's temper grew as he stared at the 4 orbiting circles.

"Die!" a green skull erupted from the knight's hand. Mograine, caught off guard, used the sword's disk to absorb the Death Coil.

"You call yourself a knight! Hiding behind that magic! The likes.." but Mograine was in no way ready to block another blast from Sapphiron's breath.

Slowly detaching himself from the frozen ground, the bleeding Mograine got up and faced his opponent, the white circles spinning so fast, it nearly seemed as if a white sphere was surrounding the death knight.

"ENOUGH!" Mograine exclaimed the Ashbringer's disk spinning red, "TURN TO ASH!" In one gigantic sweep Mograine unleashed a massive projectile from his sword, which destroyed the ice and the ground in its way. The last thing the pale death knight did was take out a pocket watch…

A black flash filled the huge room. Then a white flash even greater blocked out the black. Silence followed. Nearly silence. The ticking of a pocket watch was quite audible. Under a pile of rubble Mograine lay. His infinite rage keeping him alive, but unconscious. Nothing was left of the arena, the whole structure demolished, the sword of Damocles hanging on a thin thread. Snap! The sword entered free fall. Impaling the frosted ground it landed on, a figure approached it. Amused, Kel'Thuzad looked on, now he was sure he knew who that knight was. The figure checked the pocket watch and snapped it shut.

"Thank you for your time," facing the stunned crowds he picked up the sword and closed the pocket watch. Turning towards the hovering entity the new champion kneeled.

"Arise Champion – Abaddon, Lord of Avernus!" having got up the Lich leaned forward, "Welcome back boy, it's been a long time," the death knight only showed a faint sign of surprise, simply shown by a smirk.

"As I thought, Teacher, you have elevated to incredible heights."

"I must say the same to you. A magician's janitor turn into the Champion of the Undead – that's quite a promotion!" Kel'Thuzad looked at the boy, his eyes spoke of ambition, "I see. You've planned this all along. Well then may the Lich King guide you to victory and may your foes falter in your wake."

The Champion got onto his steed and rode out off the plagued citadel. While the Lich turned around to face the ruins. Persisting through all the damage an abomination and a large ghoul stood ready among the ruins, "Greed, Lust you did exceptionally well. Today you have gained your names," turning to face the abomination, "Greed from now on you shall be called Pudge!"

"Mmmmm Pudge happy with good meal! Pudge happy with good name!"

"As for you Lust. You shall be know as N'aix!"

"Graww!" the ghoul howled in excitement.

"Envy has done exceptionally well as well," he remembered the hideousness of the one the destroyer had brought in, even its odour was lethal, and to think it was a genius in alchemy, "He has gained the name of Harbringer! As for now clean up this mess, the master will be displeased with such upkeep of his castle!" turning around Kel'Thuzad noticed someone, "I must go face someone else's demons." And with that the Lich walked off into this chamber, a shadowy figure following his steps closely.

* * *

He stood gazing at the dead scenery, his new sword glimmering in his hand.

"So you understand, Akasha?"

"Yes, o redeemer, your bidding shall be done!"

A quake tripped the succubus, whilst the knight stood still smirking, "And so it has begun!"

Abaddon let out a manical laugh as he stared into the distance at Northrend.

* * *

Sorry for the long wait, I was on a rather nice vacation. For now the chapters will go on like that, I'll try to introduce as many as possible characters before the proper action begins. Read and review please;) And if you don't like DotA don't read this, I've posted the warning on the title as a warning of sorts, so no need to send me your remarks on how much you hate it. 


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